


Hephaestus

by maven



Series: Modern Mythology [10]
Category: Birds of Prey (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:23:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maven/pseuds/maven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you risk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hephaestus

**Author's Note:**

> This is an Alternative Universe as it’s a blend of the Birds of Prey television show and a variety of DC comic books, particularity The Killing Joke and the Batman titles between 1983 and 1991.

It was her favourite spot in the city. 

Ten stories up, her back to the ocean while ahead and below stretched Gotham.

She could, by turning her head slightly, see each aspect of the city.  The financial district dominated by the olympian tower of Wayne International during the day and by the trendy bars and restaurants at night.  The residential areas from the posh mansions all the way down to "Crime Alley" with its warren of turn-of-the-century brownstones tenements.  The colourful urban glow from the neon and marques of the theatre district.

"Do you want to go out?"

"What?" Barbara replied, voice distracted.  "Now?"

"No, not now.  Maybe tomorrow night.  Before Kyle gets back from Scout camp.  Some adult time.  Anything you want."

"Anything?" Barbara asked, voice more focused and Helena could picture her, peering over her glasses at the microphone.  "Opera?"

"I like opera."

The snort was neither elegant nor believing.  "No, you don't."

"Sure I do.  What's that one?  They used it in 'The Hunger" when Susan Sarandon and Catherine Deneuve are making out.  You know, Black Black Heart."

"Lakme?" Barbara asked.  "You don't like Lakme."

"I like that song."

"You like picturing Susan Sarandon and Catherine Deneuve making out."

Helena laughed, stretching and standing up on tiptoe.  "I should bring you here."

"Define here," Barbara said, voice going back into distracted mode and Helena could pick up the snap of the soldering gun.

"Harkness Building on Sixth."

"Gargoyle on the north face?"

"Yeah."

"Wonderful view.  Can you see me?"

"The Tower?  Just barely."

"Your eyes are better than mine were," Barbara said, a plastic snap clearly heard over the comms.

"Whatchya working on?"

The pause spoke more than the answer.

"Just something I've been working on," she said finally.

The evasion answered the question clearly.  "You're working on the damn belt," Helena said angrily.

"He... Huntress."

"Damn it.  Damn it.  Damn it.  You know how I feel about that thing."

"Yes," Barbara said.  "I know how you feel."

Frowning Helena jammed her fists into the pockets of her trench coat, vaguely aware that she'd missed something but too busy trying to tramp down her anger to go back and find it.

"I'll be back in about ten minutes.  We'll talk then."

"It's ready for testing."

"What?  Barbara, god damn it..."

"All the simulations were positive," Barbara said, her voice calming and firm.  "I'm activating it... now."

"Damn it.  Damn it... stubborn idiot," Helena muttered.  "So?"

Her brain realized something was wrong, the silent comms screaming.  Pushing the panic button on her belt she leapt.

+++++

She'd lost the duster, snagged on a fire escape and abandoned.  The tear across the upper arm of her favourite shirt, and the stinging pull that indicated it went deeper than the cloth, had happened sometime in the last block.  The knees had been when Alfred had reached her, calmly redirecting her headlong rush to the Tower toward Mercy General.

"Helena."

She ignored the voice, striding down the short corridor that separated the waiting area from the examination rooms, oblivious to the outraged noises.

"Helena."

The voice had been joined by a hand on her arm.  She shrugged it off, moving from examination room to examination room.  The one they brought her to when she was shot, the one they brought her mom when she was stabbed, the one they brought Barbara to the first time.  All were empty or contained strangers.

"Helena."

This time it was two hands, gripping firmly, distracting her finding the corridor that lead to the room where they took her mother when they'd finally given up.  She growled slightly, preparing to again effortlessly throw off the hands when she found herself suddenly weightless, her legs sliding up and away while her torso was pushed firmly to the ground, held by an invisible weight.

"Damn it, Helena, listen to me."

"Doctor Lance?"

"It's okay, Carl," Dinah said to the security officer.  "They just brought in her partner but she'll be calm now.  Right?"

The last was directed at Helena.  "Dinah?  Yeah.  Calm," Helena said.  "Let me up now."

"Eyes.  Calm down," Dinah muttered, waiting briefly until Helena's eyes flickered to blue.  Nodding she stood, half muscling, half telekinetically assisting Helena to her feet.

"If you're sure, Dr. Lance," the security guard said, visually examining first Dinah and then Helena.  "Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked Helena.

"What?" Helena said, looking down at herself.  "I, uh, yeah.  Just was in a hurry.  Where is she?"

"They're prepping for surgery," Dinah said, tugging Helena toward a gurney.  "They've called for Dr. Abrams but she hasn't arrived yet."

Helena nodded, recognizing the name of the neurosurgeon who had treated Barbara's original injury.  "What are we doing now?" she asked as Dinah subtlety boosted her onto the gurney.

"A nurse is going to bring me a bottle of stingy stuff and some gauze pads to clean up your cuts and scrapes.  And, because you're going to make a crack about it, yes- a real doctor will be by to double check everything including that cut in your forehead."

"What?  I don't know how that happened," Helena said, reaching up and wincing as her fingers touched the cut.  Closing her eyes she counted mentally to ten.  "You can tell me now.  How bad it is."

"She hadn't regained consciousness when they began to prep her.  The paramedics elected not to remove the device, Dr. Abrams will do that.  I can't tell you anything else because we don't know anything else."

"I have to tell..." Helena said, hissing slightly as Dinah daubed the cut.  "Kyle..."

"Alfred's letting Uncle Jim know and picking him up now.  Gabby's gone for Kyle; they'll be back in a couple of hours.  Did I miss anyone?"

"No, not until we know more."

+++++

"Deja vu in my line of business is never good."

"Dr. Abrams," Helena said, rising from the incredibly lumpy couch in the staff room where Dinah had finally stashed her.  "Where is she?"

"And they're putting her into a room now.  You can see her in a few minutes."

"The surgery…"

"It wasn’t much of a surgery," Dr. Abrams said, cautiously directing Helena back to the couch with a light touch to the elbow.  "No sharp objects involved.  I wasn't sure how far Barbara had progressed with her research.  If she was still using induction contacts."

"You knew about this?" Helena asked, too drained to work up anger or jealously.

"She's been in contact with most specialists in this field. I'm the closest one and the one most familiar with her injury.  But yes, I knew about this in general, not that she was going to use herself as a guinea pig."

"So, you took the belt off her.  And everything is fine, right?"

"She hasn't regained consciousness, Helena," Dr. Abrams said, the exact phrase she'd used all those years ago and, sudddenly, Helena was that sixteen year old again.

"What's the Glasgow?" she managed.

"Helena."

"What is the Glasgow?"

"E-2, V-2, M-4," Dr. Abrams said.  "It's early."

"Yeah, right.  And?"

"And each neurological trauma is different.  As this was not caused by physical trauma it's even more of an unknown area."

"You don't know."

"I don't know.  I never do."

"So we wait?"

"Again.  Yes.  I take it you'll be haunting the ICU?"

"Yeah."

"I'll have a cot brought in.  You'll eat this time?"

"Maybe."

Dr. Abrams sighed, patting Helena's hand.  "I'll be back in a few hours.  We're short of beds here.  Don't get yourself admitted."

+++++

"Hey, Ky," Helena said, voice slowly awakening from the light doze she had drifted into.  "How was camp?"

"Good," Kyle replied, snuggling briefly into her neck before counter sprawling, legs kicked over the arm of the hospital chair.

"You smell like pine."

"Slept in a tree."

"Any particular reason?"

"More comfortable than the ground and…"

"Yesssss?"

"The bigger scouts were trying to scare the little kids," Kyle said.

"What did you do?"

"Did you know you can jump from tree to tree?  Just like the Tarzan books?  At least I can."

"No.  I've never tried that.  And that doesn't answer my question."

"Just scared them back.  Serves them right."

"Because they were scaring the little kids?"

"And because they teased me when they found out that my dad wasn't a Scout like theirs," Kyle said softly.  "You, ah, weren't were you?"

"No, I'm afraid I wasn't a Boy Scout."

"Was Mama?"

"I don't think so," Helena said, fairly sure that previous Scouting experience would have come up when registering Kyle.

"Uncle Richard?"

Helena chuckled and hugged Kyle.  "Ky, your Uncle Richard is the ultimate Boy Scout.  Does that count?"

"Doesn't matter.  You and mama are way cooler than any old Eagle Scout.  Betchya tie better knots."

"Why thank you," Helena said, pressing a quick kiss onto the crown of his head.  Savouring the freedom to cuddle him, an activity becoming more and more rare as he grew.  "You can ask about her."

"She's not sleeping.  It sounds different."

"No.  It's a coma.  But her doctors and your Aunt Dinah assures me it's the good kind that people usually wake up from."

"But not always?"

A fist of fear struck Helena's gut.  "No, not always."

"But she will." Kyle assured her.

"I don't…"

"But she will," Kyle repeated firmly.  "Because she has to."

"That's right.  Hey, it's after visiting hours.  Do I want to know how you got in here?"

Kyle reached up, patting her cheek lightly, reddish-golden eyes peering at her over his glasses.  "Better not to ask, Mom."

+++++

She awoke as Kyle tensed in her arms, becoming aware of a presence in the doorway.

"Uncle Richard," Kyle said, identifying before Helena could, jumping down from Helena's lap to hug Richard.

"Jim called," Richard said from the doorway.  "Hope you don't mind me coming down."

"No," Helena said, pausing slightly to double check the automatic response.  "No," she repeated, somewhat surprised.  "Thanks."

"Why don't you and Kyle get some breakfast?  I'll sit with her."

Frowning Helena glanced from Kyle to the bed.  "If she wakes up..."

"I'll get you.  But she won't," he said.  "She'll wake up for you," he added, crouching down to return Kyle's hug.  "Just like last time.  Kyle, make sure your mom actually eats."

"I will."

"Something Barbara would approve of.  Not just donuts."

Kyle frowned, doubt clouding his face.  "I'll try."

+++++

Pacing was limited; three strides only because she couldn't make herself intrude on the other rooms.

"Did you know that you're acting a bit like a solitary confinement prisoner allowed in the yard?"

"Thank you Dr. Lance," Helena said, abruptly shaking her head.  "No, I'll never get use to calling you that."

"Don't sweat it.  It's a courtesy title right now.  Makes the patients nervous when they call me 'hey student'," Dinah said.  "What's up?"

"They're checking her out.  Seeing if anything has changed."

"And you're growling because?"

"Part of how the Glasgow is determined is based on how you respond to pain, right?  I hate this part.  Plus, you know, changing sheets and they kick me out for that now.  Apparently I annoy the nurses with my suggestions."

"Come on."

"Where"

"Starbucks down the block.  Ten minutes.  Let them do their thing without you breathing down their necks over the corners."

"You'd think they know hospital folds."

"Come on.  A liquid chocolate bar you insist on calling coffee and some kind of dessert I can't pronounce."

"How hard can zabaglione be to pronounce?"

"I'm from the Midwest.  Dessert is pronounced 'pie' or 'ice cream'."

+++++

"Now, out with it," Dinah said when they were seated.

"Glasgow hasn't changed in a week," Helena said, concentrating on blowing the steam away from her coffee.  "Dr. Abrams is starting to get worried."

"She said she was worried?"

"No.  But Kyle mentioned that she smelled worried."

"Oh," Dinah said with a nod.  "Don't be."

"Because?" Helena asked.  "Because why, Dinah?"

"I went in telepathically."

"You what?"

"Went in.  Telepathically.  Just a surface brush.  You can tell…"

"Tell how?  How do you know what you can tell?" Helena interrupted, reading the answer in Dinah's concentration in the coffee mug.  "You've done this before?  People in comas and you…"

Dinah frowned a moment before nodding.  "Yeah.  I thought… I dunno.  Study the mind and we know so little, really."

"Sounds like an ethically grey area to me.  You talk it over with Barbara?"

"No.  She'd have told me what was proper.  I talked it over with Uncle Jim.  He told me what was right.  And that it was probably going to hurt me more than them," Dinah said, smiling before it faded.  "He was right.  Families all so hopeful and there's just no one there. Or worse…"

"I don't need to know worse.  Tell me about Barbara."

"In her mind she's sleeping… there's this bed thing surrounded by fire… she watches way too much Xena by the way.  And she's sleeping."

"And she's waiting for Xena to kiss her?"

"I'm thinking it's a metaphor," Dinah said with a slight smile.  "She's resting... waiting for the time to be right."

+++++

The room was still, the hum of machines and monitors a familiar background noise that barely registered.  They had, she noted with some amusement, made the beds with hospital folds and rearranged the cards along the table over the bed.  It looked like something Barbara would have done; biggest card to the left and stair-casing down to the smallest in a semicircle.  In the center was a new one.  Home-made with a stick figure, obviously Barbara, in a hospital bed.

"Heard you were out of commission," Helena read before flipping open the card where two stick figures started down at a gravestone.  "Hope it's permanent."

"Son a bitch," Helena hissed, glaring at the stick-boy with a scribble of green ink for hair and a slash of red for a mouth.  "Son of a," she continued, shifting to the stick-girl with the jester's cap.  With a growl she stood, stopped abruptly by Dinah's hand on her shoulder.

"Jesus!" Dinah hissed, hand flying back from Helena's shoulder as if by electric current.

"What did you see?" Helena asked, stopping and sitting back down.

"Insanity."

Helena shrugged, turning back to her vigil.  "They know.  They're sitting in their little padded cells and they know about Barbara being injured.  So, you know, Kyle, Alfred, Jim- they're not safe, are they?"

"So you'd kill them?"

"My mother taught me that you look after family.  If she dies, they die.  That's the only thing that will keep Kyle safe."

"And you?"

"If she dies," Helena said with a shrug, "it doesn't matter.  As long as Ky is safe."

+++++

Night had always been her favourite time.  Even before her senses had kicked into overdrive she'd been a night owl, a trait Selina had assured her she had come by honestly.  It appealed to her sense of solitude and adventure; few were around and, those that were, were often up to no good.

Now, without the constant stream of orderlies, doctors, nurses and visitors, it had little comfort.

Or, perhaps, night was something best shared.

Sighing she lowered the guard, pulling the chair closer so she could lean onto the bed, resting her head beside Barbara's hand.  Pretend that Barbara was reading some three inch thick book while she pretended to read some whodunit.  Their time and the image was so vivid Helena could almost feel Barbara's fingers combing through her hair.

"You need a haircut."

Helena blinked looking up at the sound of the hoarse voice, feeling the fingers tighten in her bangs slightly before tracing her jaw and falling onto the bed.

"Hey," she said, her brain unable to come up with anything more coherent.

Barbara nodded.  "You look tired.  I've been out of it a while?"

"A while," Helena agreed, her voice as whisper soft as Barbara's.

"Have you been eating?"

Helena nodded.

"Kyle?"

"Usually here.  He's at home right now."

"Sleepy."

"That's okay.  You rest while I call Dr. Abram."

+++++

Helena sat, her left hand in Barbara's, watching as she drifted in and out of consciousness, lucidity waxing and waning for the rest of the night.  Managing longer and longer conversations with the doctors, nurses and visitors while Helena sat beside her, silent except for the occasional comment.

"Out with it," Barbara said, after the last of the visitors had left and the hospital had reverted to the background hum and her green eyes had ceased unfocusing into the fog.

"What?"

"The 'my God Barbara what were you thinking' and the 'how could you be so stupid'.  Go ahead, out with it."

"Dr. Abrams said you were lucky not to kill yourself or make the damage worse."

"Did she also say I was close?"

"Who cares?  Why are you still doing this?  After Shiva, after Harley... it hurts you and it damages you each time it fails."

"Why?  I need to tell you why?" Barbara asked harshly, raising onto one elbow and gesturing with her other hand at her unresponsive legs.

"That doesn't matter to me," Helena said, her voice bewildered. "It never mattered.  It never changed who you were."

"It matters to me."

"Why?" Helena asked.  "What makes it worth dying for?"

"Because I'm getting use to it," Barbara cried, her voice cracking with emotion. She dipped her head, briefly hiding her expression and avoiding Helena's eyes when she finally looked up.  Concentrating on some image beyond her partner.  "Because it doesn't hurt as much when I can't do something.  Because I don't imagine myself teaching Kyle to ride his bike, I imagine you doing it.  You say it didn't change who I was to you?  It changed who I was to me.  It makes me less in my eyes."

"So, you'll keep at this?  Fucking around with your brain and your nervous system until you finally fry your brain," Helena asked angrily.  "Doing this is more important than being alive?  With us?"

"Ask me," Barbara said, voice steel cold, looking Helena in the eyes.  Voice gentling after a heartbeat.  "Ask me to stop trying -to put it away- and I will."

"Barbara..."

"Just ask me, Hel.  And I will."

Silently Helena stared, her jaw clenching around the unspoken words until, defeated, she simply buried her face in the bed, weeping as Barbara stroked her hair.

END


End file.
